


crawl till dawn on my hands and knees

by shutupimshakira (Sniperdoodle)



Series: Bats & Dogs [2]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, F/F, Nonbinary Ingrid Brandl Galatea, Vampires, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:42:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25287016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sniperdoodle/pseuds/shutupimshakira
Summary: Ingrid wakes up with a pounding headache, no clothes, vague memories of last night, and in a stranger’s bed. Their first thought: shit, I wolfed out again. Since getting turned into a werewolf five months ago, they still haven’t gotten a hang on the whole ‘Full Moon’ thing.Though . . . waking up in a stranger’s bed is a bit concerning.
Relationships: Dorothea Arnault/Ingrid Brandl Galatea
Series: Bats & Dogs [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1831939
Comments: 3
Kudos: 71





	crawl till dawn on my hands and knees

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all! So, I kinda started this series of one-shots because of an old tumblr sentence prompt post but I can't link it up because I've just been using a screenshot of it. 
> 
> Anyways, I have a couple of one-shots in this universe that kinda set-up the world-building for a story that I have yet to write? Don't worry about that though. Just enjoy the story!

Ingrid wakes up with a pounding headache, no clothes, vague memories of last night, and in a stranger’s bed. Their first thought: _shit, I wolfed out again_. Since getting turned into a werewolf five months ago, they still haven’t gotten a hang on the whole ‘Full Moon’ thing. 

Though . . . waking up in a stranger’s bed is a bit concerning. Usually they bunker down with Sylvain and Felix, all three of them doing their best to keep an eye on each other. Did they forget about the Full Moon? 

Thinking hurts at the moment, so Ingrid focuses on one task: finding their ruined clothes. Can’t walk around a stranger’s home butt-naked. 

They roll out of bed with a thud, their legs feeling a bit weak from the strain of the transformation. Bleary eyed, they stumble around the small room trying to find their clothes. It’s a nice bedroom that seems to be barely used, if the thin layer of dust on the furniture is any indication, but . . . there’s no clothes. 

“It sounded like you were awake.”

Ingrid jumps and turns to the door, stuck like a deer in headlights. Ironic for a werewolf. Standing in the doorframe is a beautiful, brown haired, green eyed woman. 

“Uhm . . .” Ingrid stutters. “Hi! Uh, I, uhm, I’m sorry but-”

“Hold on, handsome,” the woman interrupts. “I know you’re confused but I’m going to need you to put on some underwear before you say anything else.”

“Fair,” Ingrid gulps. “Do you-”

The woman drops a bundle of clothes on the nearby dresser, “Meet me in the kitchen when you’re done.”

Ingrid swallows, “Okay.” As the woman closes the door, they can feel the blush rise to their cheeks. They’re not sure if they’re embarrassed before they stumbled through that whole conversation while naked, or a pretty lady called them ‘handsome’. 

They try to shake the thoughts away to focus on one goal: get dressed. Get dressed, they repeat to themselves. The clothes the woman left are just a pair of sweats and briefs. It’s probably all that she had that would fit Ingrid, but it works for them. 

Once they get dressed, they hesitantly peak out of the door into the hallway. The halls are painted red, and there’s a few framed posters of old stage shows. A single vase of roses sits on a dark wood side table, right underneath the biggest poster. It seems . . . normal.

But anyone who doesn’t blink an eye at a naked werewolf isn’t normal. 

The posters catch their eye. They appear to be vintage, but have been preserved well if they really are old. All feature an actress named Dorothea Arnault, a Vaudeville star, who . . . looks a lot like their host. 

They wander down the hallway and find the kitchen. Ingrid peers out into the kitchen and observes their host, and she looks exactly like the woman in the posters. She’s currently trying to cook something but . . . it doesn’t smell good. If this turns out bad, Ingrid’s pretty sure they could take her on, so they enter the kitchen. 

“About time,” Dorothea says as they slide onto a barstool at the island. “I’ve finished burning breakfast.”

“Uh . . . do you mean making breakfast?” Ingrid asks. 

“No,” Dorothea turns around to show them a shriveled, blackened pancake in the pan. “I really mean burning,” she tosses the ‘pancake’ in the trash and mumbles under her breath, “Honestly, it’s been a hundred years and I still can’t cook.” 

If Ingrid didn’t have heightened senses, they wouldn’t have heard that. While they consider eavesdropping to be rude, they ask, “What do you mean ‘it’s been a hundred years’?” 

“Ah right,” Dorothea sighs. “I forgot. You wolves have good senses.”

“So . . . you know I’m a werewolf,” Ingrid says. 

“It’s a bit obvious, between the scarring and well, you wolfing out.”

“Do you care?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“We’ll get to that,” she insists and outstretches a hand. “But, it’s awfully rude of me to have not introduced myself first. I’m Dorothea Arnault.”

So, it is the same woman from the posers. They shake her hand, “Ingrid Galatea.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Dorothea continues. “Can I get you something to drink? Tea or coffee?”

“Tea, please.”

“Ah, a fellow of refined tastes,” Dorothea grins and gets to boiling water. “I promise not to burn this. But I suppose you want to know what happened last night.”

“Hopefully nothing embarrassing,” Ingrid says. 

She laughs, and it sounds like chimes, “No. Well, _I_ don’t think it’s embarrassing. Anyways, you wolfed out at a bar.”

“Oh Goddess,” Ingrid buries their face in their hands. They can recall agreeing to go to a bar with Sylvain and Felix for whatever idiotic reasons. The two probably ditched them to go and make out in the bathroom or something, “I hate this already.”

“Hold on, it gets better. You bit the shit out of a guy that was trying to drug someone else’s drink all night. If you didn’t do it, I was going to,” Dorothea explains. “But I couldn’t just leave you there to attract a bunch of hunters, so I brought you to my apartment to chill for the night. Also, I left your keys, wallet and phone in my key tray, just so neither of us forgets.”

“Thank-you,” Ingrid sighs. “For everything.” They pause as Dorothea begins to steep the tea into the water. With that out of the way, it’s time to address the elephant in the room, “But . . . you know that I’m a werewolf so . . . what are you?” 

“Isn’t it obvious?” Dorothea grins, flashing two, sharp fangs. “I’m a vampire, love.”

Ingrid sucks in a sharp breath. Dimitri had warned them about vampires but . . . Dorothea has been nothing but kind. They ask, “I thought werewolves and vampires don’t get along?”

“What? Who told you that?” Dorothea asks. However, she gasps and holds up a finger before Ingrid can open their mouth, “Wait, let me guess: Dimitri Blaiddyd.”

“You know him?” they gasp. 

“He’s been feuding with Edie for centuries,” Dorothea sighs. “He’s the only one perpetuating this lie. At least Edie’s clear in her animosity.”

“‘Edie’?” Ingrid repeats. “Wait, do you mean Edelgard von Hresvelg?”

“Who else would I be talking about?”

Dimitri had made it very clear that they should not mess with Edelgard von Hresvelg, the Vampire Emperor. However, Dorothea makes ‘Edie’ sound a lot less threatening. 

“She’s dating a werewolf,” Dorothea sighs. She leans on the counter and rubs her temples. “Honestly, Dimitris claims are a bit baseless at this point.”

“Which one?” Ingrid asks. Though they’ve only been in the city for about five months, they have gotten to know a lot of the wolves in the city. Dimitri was a bit of a leader to all of them, and he often did his best to reign in the more violent ones. 

“Byleth,” Dorothea says. “Though, depending on how long you’ve been around you’d probably know her as the Ashen Demon.”

Ingrid’s eyes go wide. They have certainly heard of the Ashen Demon. She wasn’t just a werewolf; she is a Hellhound. Her power is nothing to joke about. 

“Ah, so you have,” Dorothea smirks. She pours tea and turns around, serving a cup to Ingrid. “She may be powerful, but Byleth’s a puppy at heart. Enough about her though, I want to know about,” she pauses and points at Ingrid, “You.”

They almost spit out their first drink of tea, “Me?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I’m curious,” Dorothea shrugs. “If I had to guess, you must be pretty new to this whole supernatural creature thing.”

“I am,” Ingrid admits. “Me and my friends got ambushed by a couple of roaming wolves five months ago, when we moved to the city.”

It seemed so easy. Run away from their problems to Garreg Mach. They didn’t know about all the dark secrets the city held. 

“Dimitri, Deduce and Mercedes took us in and helped us back on their feet,” Ingrid sighs, rubbing a hand down their face. It’s been a long five months, “We owe them a lot. I’m still trying to get used to the ‘full moon’ thing.”

“Don’t worry,” Dorothea says. “It takes time, especially considering how much has changed for you within less than a half year. But, remember you’re not alone. Despite how much of a pest Dimitri likes to make himself, you’re in good hands with him and his pack. 

“Just, don’t think that everything is supposed to suddenly make sense. It doesn’t. It honestly never makes sense; this world is too weird and too magical for common sense. Despite being alive for over a hundred years, I still don’t understand all of this.”

“Thank-you,” Ingrid honestly needed to hear that. They’ve been lost and stressed since everything changed, but it’s nice to know that they’re not alone. They keep themselves composed and turn the tables, “Now you.” 

“Now me what?”

“I told you my story,” Ingrid says. “Tell me how you became a vampire. It only seems fair.”

She crosses her arms and looks away, her soft smile turning into a thin line, “Okay. It was 1929. I was an actress on Vaudeville, I had stared in some shows, but I wanted to break into movies. There was only one problem . . . I was afraid of growing old. I made a deal. A stupid deal. I let a vampire bite me for eternal youth and . . . it was not worth it.”

“Why?” 

“For starters, in a more superficial way, I never got a movie deal. Vaudeville started to fall apart three years later. Then, once I had to start feeding, I couldn’t consistently perform,” Dorothea sighs. “And I hate having to feed. I don’t like taking lives and I didn’t know how to control it in the beginning. Now, I try to go after assholes if I get hungry. It doesn’t make the act any better, though.” 

“Oh,” Ingrid says. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry, we can’t change the past,” Dorothea says. She smiles, but it’s weaker than her ones from earlier. It’s fabricated. 

They try to change the mood, “Can I ask another question?”

“Shoot.”

“I saw the posters in your hallway . . . what was it like to perform on stage?”

Dorothea lights up, “Oh, it was wonderful. There’s nothing like it. I could sing, dance, act, I did everything and anything to keep the spotlight on me. I did comedy and animal training, I had a guy dress up as a pig and dance, that really got the audience laughing. I even stuck my hand into ventriloquism once, but that did not end well . . . I might still have that old dummy around here somewhere . . .

The door slams open, and a man with luxurious auburn hair bursts in, shouting, “Dorothea!”

She sighs, “And there it is.” 

Ingrid does their best to stifle their laugh as the man asks, “Why haven’t you been answering your phone?”

“Ferdie, I’ve been entertaining my guest,” Dorothea explains, gesturing to Ingrid. They awkwardly wave.

“Oh, excuse me,” ‘Ferdie’ bows. “I am Ferdinand von Aegir, a pleasure to meet you. Now, Dorothea, let me fill you in. Dimitri’s gone rabid; he thinks we’ve done something to one of his curs. You don’t know anything about this, do you?”

Dorothea glances to Ingrid, who raises their hand, “Hi, I’m the cur.”

Ferdinand looks between Ingrid and Dorothea. He settles on her, “You bedded one of Dimitri’s pack?!” 

“First off, apologize to Ingrid,” Dorothea begins. “And secondly, no ( _at least not yet_ ), I was letting Ingrid stay here while they wolfed out.”

“Yeah, Dorothea was just being nice,” Ingrid adds. They try to act calm despite feeling their cheeks burning from her comment. 

“My deepest apologies, Ingrid,” Ferdinand bows again. “And may I suggest informing Dimitri that you're safe before anyone does anything rash?”

“I will, where was my phone?” Ingrid asks. 

“Key tray,” Dorothea points to a small bowl on a table near the door. Ferdinand is closest to it, and hands them their wallet and keys as well. 

Ingrid shoots Dimitri a quick text letting him know that they're safe, but with how everyone else was spamming them, they should probably make an appearance to quell everyone’s worries, “I should be going. But Dorothea, thank-you so much for your help.”

“It’s no problem, us ‘monsters’ gotta stick together,” Dorothea says with a wink. “And don’t worry about returning the sweats.”

“I don’t know how to make it up to you,” Ingrid says. 

Dorothea seems to have an answer to that. She quickly scribbles something down on a notepad and hands the paper to them. It’s a phone number, “Just keep in touch.”

They stare at the number and smile, “I will.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank-you for reading, leave a comment and let me know what you think! And have a good day!


End file.
